Maintenance

Summary: Phil just wants to go home. The rioting fills the street and he is what they hate.

Chapter 1

The riots must
have gotten worse. A sheet of black was all Phil could see. He grabbed
his phone from his pocket with shaking hands. He could hear his breath, and
nothing else. He turned his phone on and went to the flashlight app. He would be able to find his car now.

The parking garage was so quiet Phil could hear his own heartbeat,
punctuated by his new shoes tapping the concrete, echoing through the
blackness. He knew that if anyone should come down here they would find
him. He passed the giant fan that would have been running and shined his light
at it. The sight of the broken fan
suddenly made him pull at his collar. The air seemed unsafe now.

He found wall with the red line on it,
the corner and then the pillar that took up a parking spot. He was at his car.
The key was brought up like normal but Phil did not press the button to unlock
it from a distance, it made too much noise. He scrambled to the car door. The
key slashed against the door at least twice before he got it in the lock. It
had been a long time since he had to open his car that way. When he was sitting
down he found his hands flailing all over the inside of the door to lock the
car. The thought of one of the rioters prying him from his car was making the
task difficult. He held his phone up to the door. There had never been a need to lock his car
with him in it.

He thought of the crowd that
might still be up there. He had not seen an end to the people, even
looking all the way down 16th ave. In that moment he made the
decision that it would be best to run anyone down that tried to stop him. It
was a matter of personal safety.

He turned
the car on and another wave of panic shot into him through his nose. The cement
wall in front of him almost blinded him. And the car was so loud he expected to
have someone banging on the rear window in seconds. The car slammed into
reverse. He pulled out of the spot and nicked the smaller car with his front as he turned. They would
understand, he thought.

His car hit the car behind him. He turned again and drove away. The
blackness of the basement garage was unnerving. He could feel the wideness of
his eyes, the adrenaline rushing through his body. Slowly he made the 3 turns
to get out, it took him a lot longer than he expected. The ramp out of the basement was like a beacon. The sunlight reflected through the room. He could feel
himself brighten as he saw it. As he rolled the up to the top he began to relax. No bottles, no
clubs, no droves of angry people were in sight. He sighed and brought the car
level with the road.

There were
hundreds of people in the street. The response to his car was immediate. A stranger in an oversized dirty red sweater
turned to make eye contact. Only a moment passed before the stranger threw a bottle. Not even a second passed before another rioter hurled a chunk of
concrete. Phil slammed on the accelerator.

“God damn
it!” he shouted threw gritted teeth.

The rear of
the car had drifted back onto the ramp
while he had watched the strangers. There were too many people blocking
his path now anyway. He slammed it
into reverse and hastily made his way back into the dark basement. He hit the
concrete walls twice on his way down, he had never gone his fast in reverse
before. He made the sharp turn with a bit of a skid and kept going until he
realized that the rioters had no light source, they wouldn’t be able to find
him. And maybe they didn’t want to find him,
he hoped. Maybe one guy wasn’t worth the effort. Phil parked and turned the car off.

He stared
at the exit ramp for what seemed like an
hour. He saw shadows and his breathing
stopped. Six people were walking down the ramp. A bright light came from
two of them, they had flashlights or a phone like his. He gripped the steering
wheel with his left hand and the key with his right. He was breathing fast. The
thought of running them all down flashed in
his mind. He couldn’t, more would come for vengeance. He would have to run.
The car roared to life with a forceful turn of the key. Phil drove
straight until he saw the break in the parked cars. He would go left, deeper
into the garage. One of the rear windows smashed, and the car was bathed in
orange light. A molotov cocktail had gone through the window and was rolling
around in the backseat. Phil knew it had not been broken by the impact but he
could not stop now.

“Shit!”

He swerved
at the turn. The sudden fire had spiked his adrenaline, he found
himself going faster. His car scraped the fronts of two others. Phil corrected a bit too much and scraped a truck on the opposite side. It had been
at more of an angle and he lost some momentum. The orange glow was growing as
the flaming bottle rolled around, the neck touching all sides of the leather
interior. There was smoke now;
Phil was forced to lower the windows as he made his way deeper and deeper into
the garage.

He kept
going, trying to ignore the fire. Turn after turn, his headlights flashed over
the numbers on the wall. 3, 4, 5. He
was well underground now. His left shoulder caught a lick of fire.

“Ah!”

Again.

“Fuck,” he
hushed himself despite the sound of the car, and the fire.

He saw no
other option. He slowed the car down quickly and only half avoided screeching
the tires before hastily getting out of the car. The door few open and bounced back at him. It hit his head.

“Mmmf.”

He didn’t look back and ran deeper into the
garage. He could hear the fire spreading, the windows on his SUV breaking. When
he got to the bottom there
was a door. “Maintenance” was printed on
it in large letters. He had to get inside.

Ignoring
the burning car, Phil rushed to the door and tried the handle. It moved, but
was locked. His phone was in the car, it was too late to go back for it. No flashlight. He felt the floor and walls of the garage for
anything. A crowbar, metal stick, anything that might help him get in that
room. Phil froze. He heard a click followed by a squeak. The door opened inwards. It was
dark in the room, and the fire did not
supply enough light to see.

“Hello?”
Phil tried to sound as pathetic as he could. Like the homeless on the way to
the train.

“What the
fuck is going on?”came an angry,
commanding voice.

Phil felt a gun aimed at him.

“People
chased me down here. That’s my car. If you don’t help me they will kill me,” he
did not know if the last part was true but a little guilt might edge things
his way.

“Fuckin eh.
Get in,” the voice responded angrily.

A light
turned on in the room and the man’s face was visible. He was black, and he was
dressed like the rioters. Army jacket, gloves, hoodie and a winter hat. He looked dirty. Phil rushed past him and saw
the shotgun. It was flat black. It scared Phil to see it but he knew without it this
man probably would not have survived this long.

“Thank
you!”

Although Phil was not tired he
collapsed on the floor when he got inside.

“Why would
you go lower? There’s no way out of here,” the man said with a growl.

He slammed the door shut and turned the
light off. Phil heard him slump against the door, sitting down.

“I
panicked. They threw a molotov cocktail into my car,” Phil said sheepishly.

Phil
realized he was pointing at his car and
neither one of them could see it. His
hands fell on his thighs in the dark.

“Do I know you?
Do you work in this building?” Phil could not believe how relaxed he sounded
saying that.

“I did.
What’s your name?” the tone sounded
lighter.

“Phillip
Kelly, I’m with BP on the 30th floor.”

“Oh yeah?
You’re going back in the morning?”
the man jabbed at him.

“This will
be over in a couple of days.”

The silence
said that the man felt otherwise.

“I’ll need
a new car though,” Phil chuckled to himself. He could hear it smoldering through the metal door.

The man
laughed heartily, “Maybe an armored one.”

“So where
are you?” Phil asked.

“I’m right
here.”

“I mean
what floor do you work at. What’s your name?”

“I worked
at the coffee shop in the lobby. I remember you. Medium iced americano with no
lid, right?” the man asked.

Phil felt
himself make an approving face.

“But what’s
your name?” Phil was getting impatient.

“It’s
Sean.”

“Well Sean,
thank you for saving my life.”

“They might
be back, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if that happens,” he sounded
afraid even though he had the shotgun.

“You’ll
shoot them of course,” Phil almost
laughed.

“Have you
killed anyone Phil?” there was bitterness there that Phil picked up on.

“If they’re
attacking us, why would we not defend ourselves?” he saw his hand make a
patronizing gesture. His eyes had gotten
used to the dark. The orange light of the car fire was trickling in under the
door.

“I don’t
want to kill anyone,” Sean said. He
sounded pained.

“These
people threw a god damned molotov cocktail into my car! They tried to kill me!” Phil could feel his temperature rising.

“Well you
were rich, and they’re poor. You showed yourself to them and you’re everything
they hate.”

“Look, I’m
not rich. My bosses are rich. They’re the ones with fucking mansions and
yachts,”

“You had a house?”

“I have
a house.”

“How many
bedrooms?”

Phil
hesitated to answer, “Two.”

Sean
laughed with his belly, “Two
bedrooms? You lived by yourself?”

“Two bedrooms isn’t that much.”

“Where?”

Phil silently thought for a moment.
He had an apartment in the best suburb in the area.

“It’s Oakdale, isn’t it? And you
still don’t think you were rich?”

Phil’s voice grew louder.

“I know at
least four managers upstairs with gates to their houses. And
why the fuck are you saying all this
in the past tense. This is a riot, not the end of the world. In three days the
military will come in and fix this whole thing.”

“Suit
yourself. But I’ve never heard of
riots span cities like this. I haven’t heard anything from the government in
a week. Have you?”

Phil said nothing.

“You
seriously don’t think you were rich?”
Sean pressed.

“Whose fucking side are you on, here? Should I
be worried that you’re going to kill me? Why aren’t you out there with them?
You obviously can’t stand me,” even as he said it he knew he shouldn’t have. He
wasn’t the one with the gun.

“I don’t
like killing. I don’t like hating,” he spoke somberly.

“I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to lump you in with them. You saved me. I guess my adrenaline is still going,” Phil was
nevertheless suspicious of Sean.

“Okay,” Sean’s tone was final.

The two of
them listened to the car fire
slowly die down. The soft glow
coming through the bottom of the door disappeared. Phil imagined the Mercedes symbol melted on the cement
floor next to a smoking pile of
ash nicely boxed in the half-melted frame. He didn’t know how to hot-wire a car, but if he did he might
consider talking Sean into getting out of here in one of the cars in the
garage. There were plenty to choose from.

“Do you
know how to hot-wire a car?” Phil broke the silence.

“Nope.”

Phil could
feel the contempt. Was it racist
of him to ask that? Right now he
didn’t care. Before he could speak again
the sound of footsteps and a flash of reflected light under the door caused
Phil to sit up straight.

Sean snapped the shotgun into
a ready position and got up silently to crouch beside the door. Phil
picked up on cue and mirrored Sean.

The footsteps ended very close. The voice enunciated each syllable with
horrifying clarity.

“We. Are going. To kill you.”

Phil was
staring at where Sean’s eyes were. He willed him to make the choice to fight back.
His temperature dropped and he felt like he did back in the burning car. The
adrenaline was in full swing. They
waited inside in silence for a few moments before the same man spoke again.

“We either
smoke you out or you open that fucking door you pompous prick. I saw your car
before we burned it. I know you’re one of them,” the rioter said casually.

The more Phil heard him talk the younger he sounded. He stared at Sean, waiting for him to
make a movement or say anything. His knees were shaking, his breathing was
becoming hard to keep controlled. It was only a matter of time before he would
beg them to spare his life. They waited again in silence. There was an exchange
on the other side. It seemed to grow a little heated.

“Your time
is over!” another rioter screamed.
The others vocally agreed with her.

Phil could hear her mouth foaming with rage.

Sean stood
up and took a stance about six feet away from the door, the shotgun resting on his hip.

“When you
hear those footsteps come close again,” he whispered, “You open the door as fast as you can and plug your ears.”

Phil
nodded, then realizing Sean couldn’t see him, “Good thinking.”

It didn’t
take long for the moment to arrive. The footsteps came right to the door and
despite his heart pounding in his chest Phil grabbed the door and pulled it
inwards as hard as he could. He slammed it against himself and held it as
cover. There was no time for speaking. Phil heard a shotgun blast followed by
screaming, then another. Rapid gunshots, the shotgun and pained voices came from the room and the garage. It lasted
longer than Phil had expected, and Sean had been shot. After a couple seconds
of silence Phil closed the door as powerfully as he had opened it.

“God fucking damn it!” Sean cried out
from the floor.

Phil
searched frantically for his phone for the light. Sean beat him to it and
pulled his from his pocket. The
light blinded him even though it was pointed at Sean’s side. There was more
blood than Phil had ever seen. He counted two wounds, each within a couple
inches of each other. He knew nothing about saving people. He did not
even know the Heimlich maneuver.

“Get them
out!” Sean screamed but it came to Phil as a whisper, he had not
covered his ears like Sean had
told him to.

“How?” Phil said.

Phil had no tools, and thought he would only damage him further.

“Anything!
Look around, there has to be
something! Your hands? I need a tourniquet”
Sean’s voice was getting quieter.

Sean pulled
up his shirt while screaming. The holes weren’t big, but a lot of blood was
coming from them. Sean was convulsing now. The
phone slipped out of his hand and fell on the concrete face down. the room was
dark again. Phil could hear the groaning
and wailing. And not just from Sean, but from outside. It was only then
that he covered his ears.

...

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Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks,
Quetzacoatl

M.L. Bull:
Hello, Aalia!Your story compelled the emotional pain and struggle of a teenage girl very well.. The imagery was also convincing and well-written, showing the different personalities of your characters and their actions. However, I do think that many of your sentences are too lengthy and could use...

Jessie:
I wrote a review on fanfiction but I thought it would be fitting to write on on here too :) This story was honestly stunning. I am a budding writer myself and to read this- to FEEL this- reminded me of why I am honoured to have this passion and drive for a craft that is just so raw and beautiful.

Jasmine Chow:
As I read this story, I was reminded some what of Terry Pratchett, especially some descriptions of politics and economics. The sci-fic setting is quite intriguing. Writing style is quite lovely and grew on me slowly. I was also slightly reminded of Mark Twain, especially his book A Connecticut Ya...

Leah Brown:
This was an amazing read! I was hooked from the very first chapter, holding my breadth to see what would happen next. The characters are rich and vibrant, and the world Danielle has created is fascinating. If you love YA, you MUST read this book. Such a smart, brilliant debut novel. I loved it!

Sandra Estrada:
I loved every minute of it and I thank my lucky stars that brought me to the story, it's been a whirlwind of emotions, plot twist after plot twist but I never got tired of them. Abby and Kade's story is a hard one to understand but once you're submerged in their story and love, you can't help but...

ianwatson:
The comedy is original and genuinely funny, I have laughed out loud many times reading this book. But the story and the plot are also really engaging. The opening two or three chapters seem quite character-dense but they all soon come to life and there is no padding, filling or wasted time readin...

LouiseJ2:
I enjoyed the detail you went into with regards to the case. It made the UNSUB appear believable. The crisis in the middle of the story was my favorite part, very dramatic but not over the top. I feel like sometimes pairings can be overdone but I liked that some of the relationships were a little...

:
This is my first book reading on here and I absolutely loved it! If you like a book that'll keep you up late at night then this is your go to. What makes this novel so special is that it shows that even if your not blood related some people would put your needs before there's.